I just wrote a blog post that was supposed to be scheduled for a week or so from now. Then I accidentally hit Publish instead of Preview. So I rescheduled it, which means if you got the email, and then tapped to to to the website to view the photos, they didn’t exist.
Oops. I’m sorry.
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You may recall that there was some serious rain this winter in Three Rivers. I was fascinated by all the rushing water and posted a few times about it in March. March 11, March 12, and March 13. (Probably posted in January and February too, but who wants to chase down all those links?)
One result of that enormous amount of water is that Kaweah Lake filled up very quickly. Now, the Army Corps of Engineers is letting water out as fast as possible to make room for the large amount of anticipated snowmelt. This means we can now walk down at the lake bottom again, and wow, is it ever fascinating and ugly.
Looking upstream from the Slick Rock parking area; Alta Peak is visible with snow on it and Blossom Peak has three points on the far right.
Normally when the lake is this low, this gate is open and we drive farther down. Not this time.
There’s a culvert beneath our feet here. It had to be roaring through to create this canyon.
The water is still flowing through the culvert; that is Highway 198 above.
Somebody was here when the mud was still squishy.
Driftwood galore.
So many layers of different types of dirt: silt, fine sand, coarse sand, all so thick.
It started getting a little squishy.
Look how deep this stuff is!
Too bad backhoes and trucks can’t come get this for fill on all the washed out roads, for future sandbags, and just to allow the lake to hold more water. But this is owned by the government, which isn’t exactly known for practical thinking or helpful practices.
Weirdly fascinating, definitely ugly. Life in Three Rivers can be so varied and interesting; if one must live in Tulare County, I vote for Three Rivers (although Exeter is an awfully nice town if you like town living, I dearly loved living in Lemon Cove, and Springville is quite beautiful in springtime.)
Tomorrow we will wash our eyes out with some wildflowers.
A post about walking on the lake bottom in March of 2020 is here. . . scroll down for the lake pictures.
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This post about yardening is not about procrastination; it is about pure enjoyment of one of the most beautiful springs in recent memory. Is it just Three Rivers?
Our cats have always loved feather grass. They try to kick the stuffing out of it when they are kittens, and then lie on top of it or try to hide in it when they grow up.
Basil was the only item that the fantastic plant nursery did not have; I found it at our local hardware store the next day.
Here is the studio to make this post a little bit about my art business.
It is a mystery as to why hollyhock keep volunteering when the deer bite them down to nothing.
In the past several years, I have weeded all around the baby poppies and ended up with a nice showing. This year I decided to skip that task, maybe because it rained almost every weekend. The result is tall weeds and almost no poppy plants.
Chances are there will be very few blossoms.
Had to end with a studio photo (and a bit of the painting workshop) to remind myself to get back to work.
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I was procrastinating (and yardening) in order to think. Sometimes procrastination is simply waiting for inspiration. If you are a person of faith, that is a time of waiting for the Lord to show the way through some of life’s more puzzling situations.
One of my puzzling situations was how to paint the mountains accurately on a commissioned oil painting when I didn’t have the right photos. Sure, Part A is in Photo A, Part C is in Photo C, but then Photo B doesn’t match or fit because it was taken from a different location or there is a tree blocking what I need to see.
I can fake mountains and foothills pretty well, but this particular painting is calling for accuracy. Well, actually, Mr. Customer is calling for accuracy in the mountains, and I fully understand and endorse his desire. The point of the painting for him, besides recalling a moment in time, is to be able to see specifically which peak is where.
I had a good start, but there were some significant difficulties, such as what happens between Castle Rocks and Sawtooth. I could make a few white dabs, but when Mr. Customer and I try to name peaks, our efforts would be stymied by misleading information. (Heaven forbid that we participate in dis and mis information!)
The answer came while having lunch on Rocky Hill.
Let’s crop and enhance it.
Nope, this isn’t the span of mountains I am seeking. It’s in this photo, but those beeves are in the way.
I cropped out the cattle, messed with the exposure so the mountains were very distinct against the sky, and VOILA! (That is French for THIS IS WHAT I WANT AND NEED! Maybe. I don’t speak French.)
Was I seeking inspiration?
Maybe. People who aren’t artists think there is some sort of woo-woo inspiration thing that causes artists to do our thing.
I am more practical. There is beauty everywhere, subjects that would make great paintings, but as a professional, I have to take into account what my customers (and potential customers) want.
So, more than inspiration, I was seeking information, but needed help to find it, and then, right on time, the Lord provided. (If you are not a person of faith, you might credit “the universe”. That’s too woo-woo for me.)
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Sometimes life piles up a stack of difficult tasks, unpleasant chores, awkward situations, design problems that don’t seem to have an answer, missing information, incorrect instructions, circumstances that require negotiating skills, tricky decisions, impossible priorities. (Does this make you want to stab yourself with your pencils or knitting needles? Slam some chocolate? Curl up under your dining table with your thumb in your mouth?)
Recently I had a few of those types of challenging paths to navigate. Nothing serious, just no clear path ahead in several areas, all business-related.
So, I spent an entire day digging in the yard after a trip to a plant nursery so extensive that it required a more substantial vehicle than Fernando. I had been saving some gift certificates, and those were spent, along with some green paper with pictures of dead men’s faces, and I even plasticized some of the plants to put in the studio garden. (That means I used a debit card because it was a business expense.)
My yard is immense. It has about 10 separate sections, none of which look very polished, but all of which are a pleasure to putter around in (until the mozzies show up.)
I didn’t listen to music or podcasts. I just pulled weeds, pruned plants, dug holes, and planted new things, all while thinking only about gardening, not about problems needing a solution. Some of the “experts” on thinking say that relaxing your mind, ending the obsession, “changing channels” gives your brain a chance to come up with answers.
After living here for 24 years, I am finally learning which plants work and where they might be happiest. The difficulty of buying plants cannot be overstated. You can comb through the Sunset Western Garden Book and make a list. None will be at the nursery. You can make a list of plants that have succeeded in the past, and maybe you will find some, and maybe you won’t. You can try to remember the names of the ones that are currently looking good, fail to remember, take a photo using an app called “Picture This”, find a name that doesn’t match, show the photo to a nursery employee, and get steered toward something else. If the thought occurs to you, “I’ve never killed one of those before”, then maybe you will choose that. Of course, you could also think, “The deer in my yard might like that one”, and then you have another decision to make.
At the end of the day, I had no answers, one mosquito bite, 2 dirty hands, and many new plants to remember to water and guard from deer, gopher, bird, and bug attacks.
All in all, it was a very good day. Maybe in time I will figure out a few new paths through my tricky situations.
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Rocky Hill is private land, in the hands of several people. One of those people is a friend, and she arranged for us to go to the very top. I had asked her if we could have permission to climb it with The Farmer and Hiking Buddy, and she said she has access to the top and can take people, and yes, she would love to take us up. Then Tulare County had a flood.
After things settled down from the flood, we learned of a tour to see the pictographs on Rocky Hill. Our friend was part of the tour, and she suggested that we go to the top for lunch after the tour. You betcha!
Get this: there is a paved road to the very top of this big rocky hill, and by “big” I mean 5 miles in circumference and 3 miles in diameter (not sure where that got measured). Friend has a key, of course, and we loaded up chairs, a table, lunch, and ourselves, and headed up. And up. And up some more. 2.4 miles, specifically.
Friend had laughed to herself when I asked if we could climb it. She later told me she wasn’t having any part of climbing but was happy to drive up with us.
It was so very very perfect. Very very very perfect. A perfect way to spend the afternoon. Perfection.
Shut up, Central California Artist and show some photographs!
At the base—the hill sloping into the frame on the right is Rocky Hill.
That blue line is the Friant-Kern Canal. The wildflowers are mustard.
This is looking west.
And this is the unparalleled view of the Sierra. (Lots of people say “the sierras”, but it is the Sierra Nevada Mountains; thus “the Sierra” is the correct shortened term. You’re welcome. P.S. My dad taught me that.)
The tiny blue piece of water is actually called “Hamilton Lake”, and only appears in wet years.
The creek in the distance is Yokohl Creek, which did some real damage during the flood. People used to be able to remove sand from beneath the bridge, but some other people made them stop (for very petty reasons). Since then, the sand has piled deeper beneath the bridge and as a result, the creek flows very close to the underside of the bridge, which means debris builds up quickly during high water and then the water finds its way around the bridge, washing out the approach. Water always finds its way. (Ever heard of “unintended consequences”?)
The cattle were curious, as cattle can be. (Remember this? – scroll down to see)
Friend provided an excellent picnic lunch, so very generous, oh so good.
Through this tree is a black cow fixin’ to deliver a calf soon.
This was the only larkspur we saw.
What a perfect day! Thank you, Friend, for sharing your beautiful piece of Exeter and your heritage with us (and lunch!)
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Rocky Hill is on the edge of Exeter, California, in Tulare County, a well-known, well-loved landmark. It is the only convenient non-flat place to walk, run, or bikeride in the area, and there is a perpetual stream of foot and bicycle traffic up the road. The entire hill is private property, so all the activity takes place on the county road that goes over the saddle between Badger Hill and Rocky Hill.
Rocky Hill has many many Indian pictographs (and lest you get your knickers in a twist about “Indians”, the Native Americans I know prefer to be referred to as “Indians”). On the south side of the hill, 30 acres belong to a conservancy, and occasionally there are tours to view the pictographs. We had the privilege of participating in a tour on last Thursday.
Alas, it is forbidden to post photos of the pictographs on the interwebs. So, you get to see some scenery instead.
Rocky Hill is very rocky. It could be called Boulder Hill.
These are not pictographs; they are mortars, so I am showing you. (so there)
This is the fruit of a wild cucumber. The seeds provided the binders for the pigment used to paint on the rocks.
Lichen isn’t paintings so I photographed it.
Clover. I love wildflowers.(Did you know that?)
Boulders.
The view of Moses Mountain distracted me from the paintings.
The Farmer and Trail Guy were good listeners. Or maybe they were wondering when we could go eat lunch. We are not used to traveling in a pack or being told to stay together. Hiking Buddy was there too, along with other people we know and a few we did not.
I liked this view out from one of the caves we entered.
And then it was time for lunch, which was a private party that I’ll tell you about tomorrow.
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“Planning, Hoping, Dreaming” reminds me of something Beth Moore has said, “Are you wantin’ and wishin’ instead of believin’ and receivin’?”
Indeed.
Someone Important told me last August that he was looking for a muralist. He’d been talking to an artist who didn’t return calls and was frustrated by the lack of response. He told me I could have the job.
Coolio.
I went to the location, measured, photographed, and discussed the project with the person who worked at the location. Purposely vague here, but more will be revealed.
Then I got to thinking, sketching, writing up notes, designing. Oh yes, this could be very excellent!
When I had some good ideas, three, each one a different size and price because I had no idea of the budget, I called Mr. Important Someone. Nothing. Left another message. Silence, or as the current cliché goes, “crickets”.
I saw Mr. Important Someone in October, and I whapped him on the arm with the stack of papers in my hand. “Mr. Someone, you have not returned my calls, and I have good ideas to share with you.”
He had reasons (very busy, because he is Important), and was remorseful, charming, and engaging, which has probably contributed to his being Someone Important.
The cricket fest continued, until April 6, when I got an arts newsletter with a Call to Artists to bid on the project that Mr. Someone had all but promised me.
Sigh.
I am really wishin’ and wantin’, while planning, hoping and dreaming, all ready to believe and receive.
This sort of enterprise is part of the the business of art, lots of conversation until money exchanges hands. The deadline to submit a proposal is April 26; a decision will be reached sometime in May.
Stay tuned. Photos will follow IF I am chosen for the project. (Maybe even if I am not, and then you all can tell me where I went wrong.)
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A few weeks ago, I got a real letter in the real mail from a real person. She said my phone wasn’t working (this is common), nor was my email (also common), so she resorted to old fashioned means of communicating, which I believe to be superior in many ways, but that isn’t a topic for this post. (You can read about such things here.)
She was part of something called The Green Hotel Restoration Foundation, and they ran out of the 1000 notecards of my pencil drawing of their building. (That’s a burn rate of 38 cards per year, in case you are curious). The foundation wanted more cards.
Back in 1997, I didn’t have much of a computer, nor did I have a digital camera or a scanner. The only record I kept of my work was an occasional photocopy, a slide (remember Kodachrome?), or if the customer had cards or prints made, I’d keep an extra.
The printing company I used back then is out of business, and even if they weren’t, they certainly wouldn’t still have the plates and negatives used 26 years ago (that’s how offset printing use to be accomplished).
I called her, since obviously my email isn’t speaking to her email, and asked her for the original.
Oh-oh. No one knows where it is. We had a great visit, then she told me that her cousin would take over the project.
Her cousin and I had many phone conversations, with lots of ideas batted around to figure out how to get more cards without having the original, and more ideas about where to look for it (the foundation balked at paying me to draw the hotel again), and we reached an impasse.
Then I had an idea. I went rooting around in my many stacks, boxes, drawers, and binders of old cards and prints, and sure enough, I found the Green Hotel.
I scanned and photoshopped it into printing shape, since printing something with an ivory background will not yield good results.
A few more phone conversations, many undeliverable emails and lots of various attempts, and finally, finally, this drawing was in the determined and capable hands of The Green Hotel Restoration Foundation.
Then I wrote a copyright release letter and an invoice for the photoshop work. This wasn’t what one could refer to as highly profitable in terms of monetary gain, but I sure did enjoy talking to these two dynamic women, devoted to history, determined to get a thing accomplished, and very quick-minded.
To top it all off, Cousin Lady lives across the street from my brother-in-law’s parents former home, so despite being in a county to the south of Tulare County, the small-world-ness of my little life is alive and well.
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Some days it is a real struggle to find time to paint because of all the non-art-making tasks associated with being a professional artist, a one-woman show, a solo act, a Jana of all trades, and small potatoes.
This is what filled my day a few weeks ago, most work related, and none of it actually for profit.
That was a busy day, lots of work, all of it not-for-profit. But sometimes an artist has got to do what she’s got to do.